


And the Scars Faded into Light

by theimpossiblegeekygrrl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Canon, Emotional Infidelity, F/F, F/M, HP: EWE, Kissing, Lost Love, Older Characters, Past Relationship(s), Quidditch, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 15:25:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5168870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimpossiblegeekygrrl/pseuds/theimpossiblegeekygrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lost love catches up with two witches who meet once again in an old broom closet by the Quidditch Pitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the Scars Faded into Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [honeymink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeymink/gifts).



It was spring time at Hogwarts, and to Hermione’s eyes the school had never looked more beautiful.  The scars of the Battle had faded as the school had been dutifully rebuilt by half of the Wizards and Witches in Britain.  Now, with the children of the fallen and of the living walking the grounds hand in hand, it finally seemed like the War was really and truly over, since that horrible day in May over twenty years before.

 

“Okay, baby?” Ron asked, squeezing her hand as they stepped out of the carriage.  They could see the Thestrals – there were few people from that day who couldn’t. 

 

“I’m fine,” Hermione said, squeezing back and looking up into Ron’s pale blue eyes.  She smiled, trying to give him some reassurance that this day would not affect her, though the idea of returning to the school to watch Slytherin and Gryffindor play for the Quidditch Cup inherently bothered her. 

 

Shouldn’t the War have taught them that Houses were no longer important, and that they should band together instead of continue to tear each other apart?

 

“It’s just a game,” he said, brushing a strand of her curly hair out of her eyes.  “And Rose would send us both Howlers every day until the end of term if we didn’t come.”

 

“Just how many times did Harry and other members of the Gryffindor team end up in the Hospital Wing after a match?  I can’t help but be worried,” she said, taking his hand as they walked to the Quidditch pitch.  He didn’t answer; a sly grin of remembered injuries was the only clue he was even listening.  She sighed, waving at familiar faces here and there that passed by.  Even after eighteen years of marriage, she still sometimes felt she didn’t know him or could begin to understand his mind at all.

 

“Ron, Hermione!” a familiar voice called out.  Hermione looked up and saw Ginny waving frantically with one hand while dragging Severus through the crowd with the other. 

 

“Ginny,” Ron said, waving at his sister with ease while giving Snape a measured glance that shouldn’t have looked so much like a glare, especially after the length of their marriage.

 

“Where are you sitting?”  Ginny asked.

 

“Gryffindor side, obviously,” Ron answered.

 

“Oh, bother you two.  You should join us on the green side, you know.  Slytherins are a lot more fun than you could have ever dreamed.”  Ginny looked up at Severus and winked, and if she didn’t know any better Hermione could have sworn she saw a glittering black eye wink back at her. 

 

Life had been much kinder to him in the years since the War, and sometimes it even appeared that his internal clock was slowly ticking backwards since he and Ginny had fallen for each other while she took care of him during her Apprenticeship at St. Mungo’s.

 

“I’m sure Lizzie would agree with that statement,” he murmured, dropping a kiss to the top of Ginny’s bright hair before they turned to walk to the green-bannered risers on the other side of the pitch.

 

“Still can’t believe a Weasley sorted to Slytherin,” Ron muttered, toeing a loose patch of dirt.

 

“Elizabeth Jane is a Snape, Ronald,” Hermione sighed.  They continued walking, and when a familiar, unruly haired head came into view, she smiled and waved again.

 

“Harry!  Pansy!” she cried.  Harry turned and grinned when he saw them.  Pansy lit a cigarette and rolled her eyes when she saw Ron, though when she flicked her eyes at Hermione they both bit their lips, remembering a long ago hate fuelled snog outside of the Great Hall during their sixth year.

 

“Can’t believe all our kids are playing each other today, can you?” Harry said, hugging Ron and Hermione in turn. 

 

“It is pretty hard to believe,” Hermione said.  “Rose, Lizzie, and James, all in the same year and –“

 

“Only one of them on the right team,” Ron interjected.

 

“Hey!  James couldn’t help the fact that the Hat made a sound case for a Slytherin sorting,” Harry said, his voice good natured, though a little wary.

 

“With Lizzie Keeping, James Seeking, and Scorpius Beating, your little Lion doesn’t stand a chance, Weasley,” Pansy said.  She blew a large cloud of bluish-grey smoke at Ron, who waved a hand in front of his face and coughed.

 

“What about House loyalty, mate?” Ron asked, looking at Harry hopefully.

 

“Things change, and sometimes for the better.”  Harry pulled a green and silver scarf out of his pocket and wrapped it around his neck.  He took Pansy’s hand and kissed it, earning a surprisingly sweet grin from her.  “See you after.  Three Broomsticks?”

 

“Sounds perfect,” Hermione said, waving the two off as they walked to their seats.  She turned to stare at Ron.  “You could be nicer, you know.”

 

* * *

 

“Look at all the bloody Gryffindor’s on our side, Astoria.  Makes me sick,” Draco said, eyeing Ginny Snape and Harry Potter with scorn.

 

Astoria groaned inwardly, trying not to let the sound escape.  She cleared her throat and said, “They all have children in Slytherin, and are married to Slytherins, love.  They might as well don the green and enjoy themselves.”

 

Draco shook his head, flipping his long pale hair over his shoulder.  She cringed whenever he did that – it made him look so much like his father that it was chilling. 

 

The crowds cheered wildly around them as Oliver Wood’s voice filled the stadium.  The game was finally starting.

 

Astoria had never been very fond of Quidditch, though she tried to learn for the sake of their son.  Quidditch was all Scorpius could talk about when he was at home.  Draco could speak about it easily, having played when he was in school.  But Astoria had never paid too much attention other than to cheer everyone else on.  And to watch _her_ …

 

She glanced across the field, just as she always did in the past, when they were very young, searching for her by that trademark mane of hair.  Secretly, she grinned when she saw her sitting next to that fool she married. 

 

Time had been more than kind to Hermione.  Even from where she sat, Astoria could see her hair was the same colour of chocolate mixed with little bronze lights here and there.  Her figure had softened and was curvier after bearing two children, but it only added to her beauty.  She wondered if her cleavage would be fuller too - if her breasts would be softer to touch, her nipples larger and tougher as her own were after breastfeeding her only child. 

 

Astoria shivered and sighed a little, even though the air was only slightly chilly.  She leaned against Draco, who pushed immediately pushed her away.

 

“Not in public, you know how I feel about that,” he said as he lifted the Omnioculars to his eyes.

 

“I’m … I’m going to go to the loo before the game really starts up,” she said, standing up and pulling her cloak more tightly around her.

 

“Hurry back – James is even better than his father was at Seeking, you know,” he said absently, not even looking at her when he spoke.

 

She turned away and walked down the steps to the ground below.  If she remembered right, the bathrooms were over by the field house on the other side – but then again who knew where they would be after the rebuild. 

 

Her heels were too high, and the sand and gravel crunched underneath her as she walked.  There was no one about, save for the odd teacher on patrol for errant students snogging.  Astoria grinned, remembering a long ago kiss stolen in the broom closet not far from where she stood.  She really didn’t need to go to the loo – it had just been an excuse to … what?  Get away from Draco for a few minutes?  Catch her breath?  She shook her head, confused about her own actions as she stood in front of the door marked by a simple drawing of an old Cleansweep.  She opened it and walked inside.

 

* * *

 

Hermione jumped a foot when the door opened.  She didn’t want anyone to see her crying, not right now – not ever.  It was just the stress of the day, too much bickering over something as silly as a game and Houses.  She dabbed her eyes quickly with a handkerchief, the one with the soft green lace that had once been –

 

“Oh goodness, I’m sorry, I didn’t – H-h-h-h-Hermione,” Astoria said with a little shock.

 

Hermione was surprized as well.  When she’d spotted her across the pitch, she had been leaning against her husband with a dreamy look on her face.  “It’s been a long time,” she said, dabbing the last of the tears from her eyes.  “What are you doing here?”

 

“I … I don’t know,” Astoria admitted, taking a seat on one of the rickety wooden chairs by the wall.

 

Hermione nodded and sniffed once more, hastily pocketing the handkerchief before she –

 

“Do you – you still have that?” Astoria said, nodding at the fabric she’d been trying to hide.

 

“I do,” Hermione said, clearing her voice before she asked, “Do you still –“

 

“Of course I do,” Astoria said, pulling out the handkerchief from her pocket that was sewn with bright red and gold lace. 

 

“But it was just one kiss,” Hermione said softly, remembering the how soft Astoria’s lips had been against hers.

 

Astoria sighed as she crossed her legs.  “One kiss was all it took for you to ruin me forever, Gryffindor.”

 

“Me too,” she admitted, dabbing her eyes again on the softly scented fabric that had been her banner throughout her life since school.

 

* * *

 

 

“I think I could have loved you, if things had been different for us,” Astoria said wistfully, looking at the her hands, focusing on the red embroidered “HJG” than she’d traced so many times with her fingertips that the threads were shiny with the oils of her skin.

 

“I think I did love you,” Hermione said, sitting down in the old chair next to her and sighing.

 

“Did you?”

 

She nodded and smiled.  “How could I not?  You were so sweet and good to everyone you met, House be damned.”

 

Astoria blushed and tried not to cry.  They’d been so afraid of what the world would think of them, not just a Gryffindor-Slytherin affair, but a lesbian couple as well.  Little did they know about how much the world would change, so fast.

 

“Are you happy with Ron?” she said, ignoring the catch in her throat.

 

Hermione nodded, though without enthusiasm.  “Are you happy with Draco?”

 

It was Astoria’s turn to nod, though she did so unhappily.

 

Hermione sighed as she looked at the green cloth in her hands.  “At least there’s that.”

 

“There’s that …”

 

She didn’t know how it happened, but one minute they were sitting next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, and the next they were in each other’s arms, clinging as though they’d never see each other again. 

 

Would they, after today? 

 

Astoria didn’t know if she could bear seeing her again.  It was too hard to be face to face with the love she lost due to the fear of their previously broken world.

 

She had just planned on kissing her cheeks, just to kiss the salty tears away that flowed from Hermione’s brown and gold eyes, but somehow their mouths found each other again, as though they had never been apart.  Her lips were a little thinner than they had been when she was a teenager, but were still just as sweet and parted just as eagerly as they once had so many years before.  A silken, wet tongue slid into Astoria’s mouth, exploring gently before touching her own, greeting it like the old friend it was.

 

Hands began to wander, both of theirs, discovering the bodies that had changed with the years, with childbirth, with the War.  Astoria grinned when she slid a hand under Hermione’s shirt and bra, finding her breasts were much softer, moulding to her hand perfectly as she pinched a nipple that was indeed larger, though apparently just as sensitive as it had always been.

 

“Oh, my sweet …” Hermione murmured against her mouth, moving her own small hands to Astoria’s silk encased bottom, squeezing gently as first, then more firmly with her moans appreciation and encouragement.

 

“Can’t go too far … married … both of us,” she said, sucking on the spot on Hermione’s neck that made her mewl like a newborn kitten.

 

* * *

 

“I know,” Hermione sighed, though it didn’t stop her from touching her wand and adding a Strengthening charm to her chair and pulling Astoria into her lap.  She sank her hands into the glossy brown hair that she’d once envied and pulled her face close so she could kiss her again.  Even through layers of lace, silk, and cotton, she could feel the soft sweetness of Astoria’s breasts against her own, hard points brushing against her with each breath they took.

 

“They’ll miss us soon,” Astoria said regretfully.

 

“Do you want to stop?”

 

“Never.”

 

The tears began again, tears that were kissed and licked away by that same perfect tongue that she would always miss, perhaps for the rest of her life.

 

They stood, reluctantly, straightening their clothes and hair – not able to look at each other until they were both as they had been naught ten minutes before. 

 

“I’ll leave first,” Astoria said, looking at the door instead of Hermione.

 

“Goodbye,” Hermione said, unable to stop the tears that continued to fall.

 

Like magnets, their lips came together one more time, just one more time …

 

* * *

 

 

“Took you long enough,” Draco said, still not looking at her.  “Slytherin is up by forty points though, and it doesn’t look like either Rose or James has seen the – well, never mind.” 

 

The crowd cheered around them as green and red robes zipped by, arms reaching for the elusive gold ball.

 

“Guess I came back at the right time,” she said, just biting back a sob.

 

Draco pulled to Omnioculars from his eyes and looked at his wife.  “Are you okay?”

 

She nodded, too afraid to speak.

 

He frowned, looking around for a second before putting his arms around her and pulling her into his firm embrace.  “I’m sorry I’ve been such a prat, love.  I’m just nervous for our team – for our boy.  Forgive me?”

 

“Of course,” she said, breathing in the scent of fine linen and pipe smoke that always lingered in his clothes.

 

“I love you, you know that don’t you?”

 

Astoria smiled against his neck, forgetting about the red fabric in her pocket as she whispered, “I love you too, darling.”

 

* * *

 

“’Mione, what’s wrong?” Ron asked as she took her place next to him.

 

“Hormones,” she said, sniffing one last time before she smiled at him.  “Want to hear all about it?”

 

“No thanks,” he chuckled.  “You just missed it, James and Rose saw the Snitch, but they lost it again.”

 

“Gods … if James’s robes were red I’d swear that was Harry flying by.”  Hermione heard the catch in her voice, but the crowd was cheering again and it didn’t even appear that Ron heard her at all.  Even so, his burly arm went round her shoulders, squeezing her to him.

 

“Next year we’ll sit with Harry and Pansy.  It’d be more fun to cheer our kids on together, won’t it?”

 

She nodded, and dammit if she didn’t start crying yet again.

 

“You sure you’re okay?”  His voice was so sweet and full of concern that it hurt her heart.

 

“Can you hold me a minute?” she asked, sobbing openly as he wrapped both arms around her, earning a sly cheer from Neville and Luna, who were sitting a few rows over.

 

He kissed her forehead gently, just like he did when they first started dating after the War.  “You are my best girl, you know?  Still are.  Love you more every day that passes,’Mione.”

 

She looked into his blue eyes and thought they were the same colour as the peaceful sky around them.  She thought only of the sky, and of him, when she said, “I love you too, sweetheart.”

 

* * *

 

“Break it up, you two.  Save it for after the game,” Pomona said with a wink.  She’d retired her post year ago, but always came back on game days.  It made her feel closer to Ronalda, especially after her passing five years before.

 

“Yes, Mrs. Sprout,” the two students said in unison as they clambered away. 

 

She grinned as she walked to the loo, leaning on her cane more heavily than she did in years past.  When she passed the old broom closet where she and Ronalda had once shared a fair amount of stolen snogs, she walked inside for old time sake, if only to relive those happy memories.  It had been the only building on the pitch to survive the fire, thanks to the Fire Repelling charms placed around it to protect the brooms.

 

Taking a deep breath, she found that the air inside smelled just the same when she shut the door behind her – like linseed oil and wood.  And if she thought about it hard enough, she thought she could smell Ronalda’s gentle fragrance of lilacs, still lingering in the air.

 

The chair by the door looked sturdy enough, so she sat for a minute as she looked at the hundreds of brooms stored here, giggling when she thought some looked as old as Salazar Slytherin. 

 

She didn’t see the little scratches to the left of her head, or the small heart that surrounded it.  It had been made decades before and had faded over time, though today it had been made bright by a swipe of pink lipstick that appeared to be the shape of a pair of full lips.

 

“HG+AG”

**Author's Note:**

> By now you should know I can't always follow instructions or prompts to the tee. I hope you enjoyed it, my sweet girl.


End file.
